I wrote a note in my head,
Folded it inside my ribcage.
It said, “I can’t keep fighting
With a heart that always breaks.”
Mom never stayed,
Dad was just a silhouette.
And I swore I’d never
Repeat all that ****
But I guess I did.
We screamed in courtrooms
Over a child I never got to see grow.
I traced his name in the frost
On my rearview window.
I lost him before
I got the chance to lose myself.
I kept his photos
In a box on the bottom shelf.
And I almost left a letter
Where the liquor lives
Something about being tired,
And out of reasons to forgive.
I almost slipped into silence
Like snow on rusted rails,
But I heard a little laugh
That cut through all that pale.
’Cause your brother said,
“Dad, are you okay?”
With a look in his eyes
Like he’d lose me that day.
And I lied at first,
But then I cried like hell.
And in the quiet that followed,
He said, “That’s okay as well.”
There’s a million ways
To leave this place,
But only one
To stay with grace.
And it’s messy, and it aches,
But it’s real.
So I burned the note
And kept the flame,
Lit a candle
And whispered your name.
I never got to hold you
Like I wanted to
But your brother held me
Like you probably would’ve too.
I left a light on,
Just in case you find your way.
I’m still here,
And I’m trying..
Most days.
